


the heart of a dog

by repoughts



Series: all I find in you [1]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mafia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bodyguard!Jackson, Bottom Jackson Wang, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Devotion, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mafia Boss!Mark, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Riding, Scars, Tenderness, Top Mark Tuan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/repoughts/pseuds/repoughts
Summary: Jackson proves his worth by each drop of blood he spills in Mark's stead, each bone he breaks, each breath he sucks in with a pierced lung. For Mark, he would give it all up.And for that Mark loves him.----Jackson is Mark's bodyguard. They've been dancing around each other for years, but never crossing the line into a proper relationship. Perhaps they're both tired of waiting for the other to make a move.
Relationships: Mark Tuan/Jackson Wang
Series: all I find in you [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130660
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	the heart of a dog

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know which one of you it was that posted [this](https://twitter.com/DEFinitelyTUAN/status/1335942628026638337) tweet, but my mind immediately went "huh, i know what to do with that." also, [this](https://twitter.com/Mayyyyy_Z/status/1257700074835996675?s=19) fan art was a great inspiration to me
> 
> title taken from heart of a dog by the kills
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Jackson is trying to catch his breath, trying to slow down his racing pulse as his body shakes with the aftershocks of his orgasm. His lips open on the pants leaving his mouth. His eyes are squeezed shut, but even when he opens them all he can see is the dark material of the blindfold resting over his eyes. His hands are lying limp above his head, held at the wrists with a firm yet delicate knot tied to the bed. His chest raises up and down, and all he can hear is the erratic beating of his heart, the shaking breaths he takes while Mark’s lips refuse to leave his skin. 

The American’s touches are light, fleeting but they hold so much care, so much love - almost as if Mark believed he could heal each jagged scar and each bullet wound with his lips alone. He knows all of them. All the little blemishes and imperfections that cover Jackson’s skin. He knows their history from the type of weapon that created them to the time of their birth, but above all, he knows how much Jackson has bleed for each of them. For him.

His fingers unwrap from around Jackson’s cock, painted white with the younger’s release, and he wipes them against the sheets uncaring of the laundry bill he’s going to get. He’ll just throw them out, buy new ones. Red and smooth, perfect for his lover to be stretched out on. Perfect for worshipping Jackson’s body on top of them. 

Mark moves his finger to Jackson’s bitten red lips, his thumb caressing the plush bottom lip with the pad, pressing down on it gently to hear the stutter in Jackson’s breathing, to see his tongue flick against his finger. He is mesmerized by the flush painted over Jackson's skin. Leaning back, he takes special care not to touch anywhere Jackson may be oversensitive, not to snag the material of his suit over the golden body. It doesn't matter how rich in threads the fabric is, it has nothing on the muscle and skin, on the bones and blood and sweat beneath his fingers.

His hand smooths over the planes of his lover's abdomen, fingers ghosting against a straight, pale line stretching across Jackson’s stomach. The American's hands are careful, reverent. They ghost over Jackson's skin like Mark's afraid touching him might cause him pain, but pleasure's the only thing Jackson feels.

There's a new patch of hardened skin in the arsenal of Jackson's scars. An entry wound from a point blank shot in the middle of his chest, just an inch away from his heart. Mark noses at the skin there, breathing in the scent of Jackson's skin, his sweat, before he grazes his teeth over it lightly. He puts his lips at the center of it and Jackson's body breaks into a shudder when Mark holds them there, unmoving. 

Basking in the warmth radiating off the younger's body and the steady beating of his heart.

"My beautiful, brave Jiāěr. What if I'd lost you this time?" Mark mouths into Jackson’s skin, his forehead resting against Jackson’s collarbones as his thumbs press lightly into either side of the younger's hips.

Often, the American wondered how different his life would have been had Jackson died from any of the wounds he received, what would be the motivation behind his actions had he not had this man at his side. Mark isn’t ambitious, he doesn’t have the need for power or money like his father had. All this, everything he does, is to keep the people in his life safe. And Jackson is the most important of them.

In the afterglow of his orgasm Jackson tries to steady his breath, tries to gather his thoughts enough to find a response that would put Mark at ease. All he can find is the truth.

"Good. It means you'd still be alive." He breathes out with utter conviction. 

Jackson cannot see Mark’s face but he can tell by the way Mark’s body tenses minutely above him the older man did not like his answer. Yet there is no reprimand to follow. No anger. Mark places another close-lipped kiss to the scar that has Jackson’s breath hitch and his teeth bite at his bottom lip. 

Mark traces his fingers over his sides with unhurried intensity, the pads leaving a path of awakened nerves over the younger’s skin. He moves his lips to where another bullet entered the younger’s body, at his side between the ribs, kissing around the scar slowly, adoringly. 

The bullet was meant for Mark, they are all meant for Mark. 

The younger man wears his scars with pride, fondness even, for every scar on his body is a proof of Mark's survival. There are countless small cuts and bullet wounds that create the chronicle of their times together, of Jackson protecting the man he believes in. That is the only thing worth Jackson's efforts, his life - ensuring Mark's life continues, walking by Mark's side and protecting him from harm that comes his way.

He proves his worth by each drop of blood he spills in Mark's stead, each bone he breaks, each breath he sucks in with a pierced lung. For Mark, he would give it all up.

And for that Mark loves him.

Mark moves up to kiss Jackson’s lips, red and so very alluring, begging to be devoured, to be robbed of breath. He has no qualms in doing just that. 

He presses his lips close, down, slots them over Jackson's until they move together and he can taste the air the younger breathes against him, he can feel the sigh Jackson let’s out sliding over his tongue and into his mouth. Jackson pushes his tongue between Mark’s lips and he encourages the younger, lures him closer with his tongue and inside where he can graze his teeth over the probing muscle.

The need for air pushes them apart but Jackson chases after Mark’s retreating mouth, needing more, wanting to feel the American’s lips against his own again. His silent wish if fulfilled if only in a fraction of what he desires as Mark pecks his lips lightly before moving again.

When Mark’s lips disappear from Jackson’s own he’s left to the darkness of the blindfold again, and the steady rhythm of his own breathing. There’s a shift of weight over the mattress, but without the use of his eyes Jackson can only turn to his other senses to try and locate the older man. The silence in the room stretches endlessly, the only other sound being the gentle rustling of the sheets he’s on. Jackson can feel the material slide against his skin. Cool. Soft. Expensive. 

The distinct smell of the other man still comforts Jackson’s nostrils as his mind fills with all the things he associates Mark with. A sandy beach, the ocean breeze, the sweet sugary taste of pineapple, the heat of the last days of summer. Yet whatever warmth was radiating off of Mark’s body is gone now leaving nothing but air to caress Jackson’s skin and, momentarily, Jackson wonders if Mark left. 

Instantly his body tenses.

"Yíēn-gē?" he asks, his voice coming out small. Jackson waits for a response and receives none. He waits for the distinct sound of Mark’s breathing to let him know the older man is still in the room, but the ringing in his ears drowns out any other sound. The slowly rising panic in his body makes his throat close.

"Lǎobǎn, please don't leave,” Jackson tries again, his hands pulling against their binds. The binds themselves are not a problem, Jackson knows how to break his way out of ropes, cuffs, even plastic zip ties. If he needs to. But the thought of Mark still being in the room - watching, waiting to see if Jackson would dare and leave the place he was put in by Mark’s hand stops Jackson from working on the binds. He doesn’t want to disregard Mark’s wishes. He wants to be good.

**“** Please, Mark. I can't protect you like this." he pleads, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. His fingers close into tight fists where they lay uselessly above his head, the rope holding them still and unmoving. Jackson is torn. Torn between his need to protect Mark, and his decision to obey Mark's commands. He swallows his fears and waits.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby, I’m not leaving without you.” Mark’s voice comes from beside him no later than a few seconds after, and Jackson can breathe again. The bed dips under the additional weight, and much like a sunflower following after the rays of sunshine Jackson’s body turns in the direction of the warmth coming off Mark’s form. "I'm sorry. I had to grab something before we started."

"I don't mind." He says, although it’s far from the truth. Jackson minds when he cannot be at Mark's side, minds it like his life depends on the proximity of their bodies. They both know it. Still he would never dare say it because he is not the one to question Mark’s decisions. He doesn’t have the right to do so.

"You don't?" The American prods gently as he settles at the younger’s side, carding his fingers through Jackson’s hair. He leans over Jackson’s body, reaching to press his lips over a starburst of tissue at his hairline. Another hit meant for Mark Jackson was lucky to catch. Lucky to live through.

There are gentle fingers wiping at the tears which slipped past the blindfold, lips on his cheek that chase the salt on his skin and he turns his head to the side catching Mark’s lips with his own.

Unlike his previous act the kiss Mark bestows on him is full of hunger. His tongue prods at Jackson’s mouth, swiping it over the lower lip and the younger man opens his lips to meet him halfway, pressing his tongue against the American’s. They’re breathing the same air, moving their lips in tandem as they succumb to the slide of their mouths fitting together, the taste of each other taking them over. Mark leans forward, pressing Jackson’s head further into the soft sheets, hands tracing lightly across the younger’s chest, and he arches into it. 

"If not for me, who were your tears for?" Mark asks as they break apart.

The American makes a path of slow presses with his lips down Jackson’s throat, making sure that not an inch of his neck remains untouched. He alternates between soft kisses that melt against Jackson's skin and prickling bites that leave the younger man's nerves tingling with the telltale promise of pain. His breath hitched and short, interrupted by the pants he lets out.

It takes some time before he remembers Mark asked him a question, even more passes as he gathers himself enough to answer. There are fingers lightly touching at the inside of Jackson’s thighs and he lets them slide open, slide wider to make room for Mark as the older man moves above him.

"Myself," Jackson finally responds.

"Are you unhappy with your place in the Family? Say the word and we can change it." Mark mummers lips skimming over the defined pectorals of Jackson’s chest. His mouth closes around one of the nipples as he swirls his tongue around the pink nub, sucks at it lightly and Jackson trembles under his attention. His throat runs dry with the way his mouth keeps being open, letting out mewls and small keens of pleasure. 

Every time they are together like this Jackson feels undeserving of the attention Mark gives him, but he craves it at the same time. He knows his place in the organization Mark’s father has built, knows his task and how to execute it perfectly. He pretends it’s enough for him.

"Never.” Jackson responds hastily, but truthfully. His place is at Mark's side, where he can protect him, support him, where he can be there when Mark needs him most.

_I only wish I could be more to you_ , lays in waiting at the tip of his tongue but he bites down on it, keeping the words unspoken.

Mark grazes the erect nub with his teeth and Jackson's body jolts. His cock stirs in interest again, aroused by the numerous touches Mark lavishes him with, aching to be touched. The desire building in his groin once more he swallows, trying to not show the desperation rising in him. 

“What’s wrong then, bǎobèi?” Mark asks, flicking his nipple with a finger and Jackson releases a hiss as Mark repeats the motion. He soothes the action by rubbing his thumb over the soft skin, making the nub more erect, playing with it as he smears the wetness of his saliva into Jackson’s skin.

“I… I don’t like not being able to see you,” Jackson swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in the air. He could get lost in Mark's touch, could forget about the whole world and just feel the hands moving over his body. The heat radiating off the man above him. His smell. If only he could have the security of seeing Mark’s face as well.

“Do you want me to take the blindfold off?” Mark asks and there’s a touch at his cheek, fingers sliding over the hem of the blindfold resting over his cheekbone.

Jackson sucks in a breath. 

He could say yes and Mark would listen, would do as he asks and take the material obscuring his vision away. But it was also Mark who asked for this addition. It was him who presented the narrow strip of fabric to Jackson and waited for the younger’s answer with patient eyes. It was the elder who tied the material behind Jackson’s head in a firm but comfortable knot, and kissed his lips in assurance. It was him who laid Jackson down on the sheets and brought him to completion while the younger’s pleasure was his only focus, sharpened by the lack of vision.

Pondering over the question, Jackson realizes he doesn’t mind the blindfold as much as he perhaps should.

“N-no,” he confesses, feeling the heat and color rise in his cheeks, “it can stay.”

“So good for me, Ěr-di, so thoughtful.” Mark says lips brushing over his ear as he bestows another light kiss over Jackson’s cheek, as he squeezes the meat of his thigh. “Thank you, baby.”

Jackson’s heart flutters at the words, beats faster, as if it was ready to burst from his chest and fly into Mark’s waiting hand.

Mark keeps moving down his body but instead of repeating his care to the other nipple, he skips it fully. Jackson isn’t sure if it’s a blessing or a curse. He both wishes to speed things up, to feel the American’s touch on his cock, and to feel the tremors of pleasure racking his body once more when Mark pays attention to his nipples. When Mark makes him gasp and mewl as the older toys with his body.

Jackson finds he has no time to think on the matter as Mark puts his mouth on the younger's hip bone and sucks a bruise into the tender skin there. He writhes in place, hands flexing against the rope. He can already see the deep purple of the bruises on his skin forming in his mind’s eyes. He wishes he could see it with his eyes, wishes he could press his finger down and feel the fleeting sting of pain shooting down his spine. His fingers ache to do it already.

Jackson loves all the marks the elder man leaves on his body, those he makes with his lips and his hands.

Mark grasps his cock in his hand lightly while his mouth continues its torturous work of relearning Jackson’s body, but even this light touch, the feeling of Mark’s hand on his dick is enough to make his breath pick up in speed. His fingers are barely there, the touch more of a tease than anything the younger man craves at the moment **,** pulling at Jackson’s cock in languid strokes, playing with the tip and all the younger can do is release a groan.

It’s not enough. He wants to feel Mark’s hand wrapping around him, wants to feel the strength hidden behind the American’s fingers as he takes Jackson apart.

“Mark, please,” he pleads, biting his lip from the lack of stimulus “no more teasing.”

And there’s a breath of amusement coming from above him, a thumb brushing over his lips, and he can taste his own sweat on Mark’s skin when he laps at the finger with his tongue. Mark pushes the thumb down and he opens his lips for him welcoming the intrusion, sucking at the finger lightly. He swirls his tongue around the pad, feels the thumb press down into his mouth and he moans when Mark finally closes his hand around his cock fully.

“Sorry baby,” reaches his ears and Mark’s voice sounds hoarse, low in a way it hadn’t before. He drags his closed fist over Jackson’s length a couple times helping the younger man arrive to full hardness. And when Mark places a small kiss at the tip of Jackson’s dick, the younger can’t help but release those little sounds he knows Mark loves so much. “It’s way too easy to get lost in you.”

Jackson hollows his cheeks around Mark’s thumb, sucking gently at the digit. He wants to feel more of Mark’s fingers in his mouth, wants to take everything Mark is willing to give him and more. A whine leaves his throat when the American withdraws his thumb from his mouth, tugging at his lip to expose the row of white teeth. Jackson can feel the wetness of his own saliva spreading over his chin, his throat, down his chest.

Jackson opens his mouth but whatever he intended to say gets cut off by the shout he lets out as Mark’s mouth slides down his cock without any warning. Jackson’s hands trash against their binds, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, and he knows he’s going to have half-moon shaped divots in his palms for days. Jackson’s legs slide open further, welcoming the American’s frame shouldering its way between his thighs. Mark fists him lightly at the root - all that he can’t, or won’t, fit in his mouth - as he keeps still around Jackson’s cock. 

Fuck, Jackson so desperately wants to see Mark’s face right now. Wants to see his lips stretched around his length, the red color of them and the shine of spit. Instead there’s only the blackness of the blindfold and the wet heat surrounding his cock.

Jackson’s thighs start to tremble on either side of Mark’s head. His hips flex from keeping them still for Mark, his toes curling in the sheets, and still the American doesn’t move his lips from around his cock. Mark likes to take his time, likes taking things slow when they’re together, and tonight is no different.

“Mark, Mark-ssi,” and this time it's definitely a whine that leaves his mouth. He hopes Mark would take mercy on him, would stop teasing but the elder simply hums around him spurred on by the noise Jackson is making, loving the way the younger pants out his name. “Yíēn, ah-”

Mark sucks on him lightly, tongue pressing flat against Jackson’s cock before his mouth is gone. He moves to lick a broad stripe from the root of Jackson's cock to it's very tip, laps at the head with his tongue collecting the precome gathered there, mouths his way down the length of Jackson’s cock. The younger’s body goes lax with the combination of frustration and pleasure coursing through his veins.

“What do you need, bǎobèi?” Mark asks, licking over the head of his cock, pressing small chaste kisses at the slit.

“You. Your mouth, your hands, anything you can give me,” he babbles out no longer hiding his desperation for Mark’s touch. The man hums as if in thought, tongue flicking once more over the head of Jackson’s cock before he slides down the length once more.

Jackson groans.

Unable to keep still anymore, his hips involuntary snap up into Mark’s mouth. As if waiting for that exact reaction Mark moans at the action, relaxes his jaw further and Jackson’s cock slides further into the American’s mouth. There is no other reaction Jackson could have to this but to transfer his weight onto his back, digs his heels into the bed and thrusts into the waiting heat.

Mark opens up for the desperate pushes, starts moving up and down his cock, his cheeks hollowing out as he starts to suck in earnest. His hands coming round the youngers hips they grasp at his ass to encourage the younger to fuck his mouth. Jackson whimpers, swallows, and follows Mark’s lead.

His thrusts are wild and erratic, without any steady pace or rhythm to them - nothing but a desperate chase after pleasure - but Mark doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers move to the inside of the younger’s thighs petting and smoothing the skin there, his head sinking even lower over Jackson’s cock when his movements stutter at the delicate touch. Mark hums around him, tongue pressing up against the underside of Jackson’s cock on every other push.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jackson mumbles frantically under his breath as he thrusts again and again, and Mark just takes it. Slurps and swallows around his cock like it’s the greatest of delicacies he’s ever had in his mouth. The younger can barely focus on anything else but the intense pleasure that runs over his body when Mark bobs his head up and down to the rhythm of his thrust, when he hits the back of Mark’s throat on a particularly harsh push.

There’s a distant sound of a cap opening but he pays it no mind lost in the haze of ecstasy. He’s indifferent to the disappearance of Mark’s right hand from his thigh when the American’s mouth wrenches pants and groans out of Jackson’s mouth.

Mark pulls back until only the head of Jackson’s cock is in his mouth, hand grasping at the younger’s waist to still his movements. Jackson makes a noise of disappointment, can’t help the way his hips chase after Mark’s mouth, cock sliding just the slightest inch more between the elder’s lips. Mark presses his hips hard into the bed, fingers flexing against his skin. He moves back letting Jackson’s length slide fully out of his mouth. 

“Sorry, I'm sorry, Lǎobǎn” Jackson hurries to apologize, stilling under Mark’s hands.

The American leans to press a kiss over his hip bone, mummers a soft _don’t be,_ into the skin there before gently grabbing Jackson’s left thigh and lifting it over his shoulder. Jackson's left thigh is especially sensitive after the fire he pulled Mark out a couple of years back. Mark focuses his attention on the uneven, rough patch of skin licking and kissing it with his lips. Each press of his lips feels like he's staking a claim on the man under him but there is no need for that.

Jackson is Mark's, he's given himself over wholly. With both his body and his mind.

A hiss escapes the young man as cold liquid touches his rim and he shudders, knows what's coming next. He's so hungry for it, burning up, his body shaking with anticipation. Mark makes a shushing sound, lips pressing at the patch of old burns. There’s a press at his hole, a moment of pressure and then his walls are opening around Mark's digit, accepting him inside. The first finger never hurts, there's only the stretch of his body molding around the intrusion, rearranging itself to welcome Mark’s finger as the American pushes in to the first knuckle.

Jackson breathes out, relaxes his body, settling further into the bed. His hips cant slightly upwards, adjusting the angle to ease the slide.

"Alright?" Mark asks, lips still trailing over Jackson’s thigh.

He nods in agreement. Forgets that he cannot see whether Mark is watching him, cannot confirm what his intuition tells him - that Mark’s eyes are always on him.

"Words, bǎobèi," Mark says and Jackson can hear the smile, the affection in his voice. The older man kisses the back of his knee. Pumping his finger in and out of Jackson’s hole slowly, moving it in a steady, careful pace Mark takes the time to let the younger man adjust to the feeling of being filled.

"Good," Jackson rushes to confirm, licking his lips. "More."

Mark withdraws his finger and Jackson is about to complain, whine at the loss of the American’s touch when the elder man shuffles closer, hands sliding up Jackson’s thigh and coming around to lift the younger’s hips. He rests them against his knees, grabs Jackson’s legs to hoist them over his shoulders, giving himself a better leverage to slide his fingers inside Jackson’s rim. Jackson releases a small noise at the action, his cock jerking as he feels Mark move him however he likes.

The sound of the lube cap reaches Jackson’s ears again, a squirt of liquid, and then Mark’s finger is pressing into his hole again steady and unrelenting. It slides in easily and shortly after there’s another digit pushing at his rim. With the second finger comes burn, the added pressure of Mark's fingers stretching and rubbing against his walls, loosening the tight ring of muscle. The American keeps his fingers inside, starts moving them lightly in circles to work at the tightness of Jackson's rim, and he squirms a bit not yet accustomed to the wetness, the stretch.

“Such a pretty little hole, so tight and hot,” Mark exhales, voice hushed and reverent as if he was talking to himself but his words carry in the space of the bedroom, straight to Jackson’s ears. He releases a whimper, his rim tightening around Mark’s fingers and the elder man shushes him gently, mouth moving over the inside of his thigh.

There’s a rhythm to Mark’s fingers as they move in and out, as he spreads them to scissors at the walls of Jackson’s hole, although slow and careful they are. It’s repetitive but exciting in its simplicity. Pushing in, spreading apart deep inside him, moving out until Mark gathers them back together and curls them to catch at his rim as he pulls to the side slightly, making sure Jackson’s hole opens up around him.

Jackson breathes out as he lays on the bed, hums and wines at the feeling of Mark’s fingers moving inside him, his cock heavy between his legs. It’s almost peaceful like this, to be under Mark’s capable hands, to know he’ll take care of Jackson, to know he is the one to make him sigh and scream, and beg. Jackson’s the one who would give his life away for Mark in an instant, but it’s Mark who’d give him the command.

The only commands he hears are _come closer, stay with me, be by my side._

Jackson was close to death many times, having been through many incidents where the certainty of not making it out was but a difference of a few more zeros written down on a cheque. Yet he made it each time. He was given a new chance again and again, all because Mark found the best doctors and spent countless millions just to bring Jackson back onto his feet.

His cock jumps, when Mark bites down at the delicate skin of his inner thigh, his fingers suddenly brushing against the previously untouched prostate. Jackson pants, shudders as Mark presses his digits down on the bundle of nerves, massaging it in small circles, as he leans down closer to Jackson’s chest making his body bend in on itself.

“Where did you go off to just now, sweetheart?” Mark asks quietly as he taps Jackson’s prostate, arousing the nerves hidden deep inside him. Jackson's body arches off the bed, his mouth opening on a groan of pleasure as jolts of electricity race down his spine one after another to the pace of Mark’s fingers pressing deep inside him.

“Nowhere,” he pants out, licking his lips. A tremble shakes through him as Mark thrust his fingers out and in, once more hitting over his sweet spot with determination. “I’m here with you.”

Mark says nothing in response but his lips attach themselves to Jackson’s once more in a hungry kiss. Something changed in the air around them, Jackson can feel it in the demanding way Mark’s tongue pushes into his mouth, in the way it maps the inside of his mouth and takes, and takes, and takes. Jackson is more than happy to give in turn. He whimpers into the kiss feeling the tip of Mark’s third finger brushing over his rim.

“You take my fingers so well, bǎobèi” Mark whispers hungrily into the space between their mouths, licking at Jackson’s open lips as he pants and moans. “Bet you’d take my cock just as good. Won’t you, Ěr-di?”

“Yes!” he shouts as Mark pushes all three fingers inside in a fast thrust, slamming against Jackson’s prostate. There’s a desperation to Mark’s moves now which was missing previously as he moves his digits in and out of the tight ring of muscle. Jackson whimpers, trying to move his hips, to push them back against Mark’s fingers but the position they’re in doesn’t allow him for any movement. He can only moan and beg. “Please Mark, please”

“Tell me what you need, baby, I will give you everything. Anything you need,” Mark presses over his lips and his hand speeds up, wrist twisting and turning as he spears the younger man on his fingers. Jackson’s cock drips with precome between his legs, onto his chest and he shifts, feels Mark’s hand press his leg down onto the bed, thumb sinking into the back of his knee. It’s only now that he notices the warmth and unmistakable feeling of Mark’s naked skin against his own, and the thought makes him run hot.

“Need your cock in me, need you to fuck me, Yíēn,” Jackson breathes, words leaving his mouth only fast enough to proceed the shout that wrenches itself out his throat when Mark latches his teeth at his nipple, pulling.

Mark’s fingers leave the heat of his body, withdrawing from inside him and soon Jackson feels them undo the binds that keep his wrists in place. The American leans up, his lips peppering over the defined pectorals of Jackson’s chest, as he rubs gently at the younger’s wrists, helping the blood flow back into his veins. He grasps one of Jackson’s hands, interlocking their fingers as he lifts it up to his lips, places a small kiss at his wrist.

Where Jackson’s pulse is loud and hammering against the inside of his skin.

“Follow me, darling?” Mark breathes as he lets Jackson’s thigh slip from his shoulders with his free hand, lays it gently on the bed.

“Anywhere.” Jackson responds without a moment’s hesitation. Mark tugs lightly at his hand moving backwards on the bed and Jackson follows instinctually, feeling Mark’s touch at his back, supporting and helping him sit up.

With the blindfold still in place it takes them some time but finally they settle.

Jackson is sitting above Mark, thighs on either side of the American’s waist as he puts his weight on his knees. Mark is reclining against the headboard, looking up at Jackson’s form in his lap, his hands are on the younger’s thighs, stroking, petting over his skin as he helps the younger find his place over his hard cock.

“Whenever you’re ready, gaga ” Mark assures. He rolls his hips up, feels the drag of his cock against Jackson’s cheeks spreading them slightly, and the younger gasps, pushes back into it.

Jackson knows they’re both hungry for it, aching to be connected in the most intimate of ways, but even now he can’t help but take a moment to just feel the other in his hand. The girth and warmth of him, the curve of Mark’s length, the way his cock jumps at Jackson’s touch. He strokes the length, lets his fingers run over the head making Mark hiss, snap his hips up into his hold.

There’s a certain type of satisfaction coursing through Jackson’s veins at the sound, at the knowledge that he’s the one to make Mark feel this good, that he’s the one who is allowed to know what Mark is like when all his carefully constructed walls are stripped away. He has half a thought to continue his teasing, but in the end his need for Mark always wins.

Jackson fumbles a bit, having nothing but the sense of touch to guide him, as he finally lines up Mark's cock with his opening.

The first inch of the length sliding inside his hole always knocks the breath out of him, but it’s amazement Jackson feels. At how Mark seems to fill him to the fullest, at how his body spreads around the head of Mark’s cock, opens up to accept him inside like that’s where the American is meant to be. He opens his mouth on an exhale, feels Mark’s hands squeeze at his thighs in reassurance, in comfort.

“Take your time, baby, nice and slow.” Mark’s voice cuts through the blood rushing in his ears as he rocks in Mark’s lap, taking his’s cock an inch by inch. He rolls his hips gently, lifts up on his knees to feel the slide of the length inside him, feel the stretch of his walls, before letting his hips push down again, settling his weight against his thighs.

Jackson works on taking Mark’s cock as he pushes himself up and down in minute increments in Mark’s lap, panting and sweating, letting out little sighs and groans that attest to his pleasure. All the while Mark hums at his actions, runs his fingers over his naked body. His hips, his chest, his abdomen, his cock. Mark grasps at his length stroking it leisurely as Jackson pushes into the closed fist and he almost slips off Mark’s length.

“Yíēn,” he gasps, righting his position to sink onto Mark's cock once more, “stop distracting me.”

“Stop being distracting,” Mark breathes out in return and he sounds just as breathless as Jackson feels.

Jackson’s hand comes round to his hole fingers grazing over where they’re joined together and he trembles, traces his hand down Mark’s cock to grasp at the root needing to make sure he won’t slide off the length. Mark is so hot, so hard in his hand. Jackson licks his lips, tightens his hold to hear Mark’s responding moan. He can’t wait to have all of Mark inside him. 

He sets a pace to his movements, slow as it is for now, but it feels so good already, and with each downward move he takes a little bit more, opens up for Mark’s cock more to press inside him and fill him up. Jackson’s burning up from the inside, body running hot with the pleasure curling in the pit of his stomach when Mark strokes him just right, when the head of his cock brushes over his prostate on an odd thrust. Mark is so patient with him, hands moving over his thighs, the small of his back, his ass as he murmurs words of praise into the heated air around them. “You’re so wonderful, gaga, taking me so well. _Piàoliang Jiāěr, zhēn de piàoliang._ ”

Finally, a moan loud and unashamed leaves Jackson’s mouth as he seats himself fully onto Mark’s cock, feeling his ass cheeks press snugly over Mark’s groin. The American shifts below him and he can feel every inch of the elder’s cock move inside him as well, press against his walls. He stops to breathe out, breathe in and just feel the other pressed deep inside him, his inner muscles hugging Mark’s cock all the way from his groin to the cockhead.

Lifting up on his thighs the younger man reaches to grasp blindly at Mark’s knees, leans back to shift his weight, feeling Mark move with him as he plants his feet on the bed so the younger can remain seated. Then, Jackson starts moving.

His hips shove down in one swift thrust as he lets gravity pull him downwards onto Mark’s cock and he gasps, shakes at the abruptness with which emptiness turns into fullness, already rising on his thighs to repeat the motion. Supporting himself on Mark’s thighs Jackson works his hips up and down on the hard cock, arriving at a pace that’s fast and brutal as he chases after the building, accumulating arousal scorching over his skin.

Mark’s hands snap to his hips, fingers digging into Jackson’s hip bones, and he grunts, moans with each of the younger’s downward moves. His hips snap up to meet his lover halfway as Jackson bounces in his lap and he tugs the younger towards himself, spearing him on the hard cock, pistoning into the tight channel making Jackson scream when his cock hits dead on at his prostate. 

“I’m so lucky to have you, bǎobèi, so blessed to have met you, to have you by my side,” Mark grunts out, words of praise and adoration spilling from his mouth unchecked and Jackson feels lost to the pleasure, cock leaking heavily with pre come, as it slaps against his stomach with every powerful thrust of Mark’s hips. Jackson breathes out shakily, head falling against his shoulders as he surrenders to the onslaught of Mark’s thrusts as he clenches and shakes around his cock. 

He’s so close, almost at the verge of his orgasm.

Releasing his grasp on Mark’s thigh with one hand he sneaks it to his cock, stroking himself as he pushes back onto Mark’s cock to the best of his abilities but he’s being overwhelmed by the steady drag of Mark’s length at his insides, by the tight grip of his fingers at his hips, by the way he slams home against his prostate. He whines at the cusp of coming, when he feels fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the blindfold restricting his vision as the material slides off his eyes.

His eyes, being lost in nothing but darkness for the whole evening, take a time to adjust to the low glow of the city lights pushing through the windows but once they do he’s met with a sight that steals his breath away. 

Jackson sees his body from chest down glistening with sweat, cock red and leaking, standing at attention between his spread thighs, and beyond that Mark’s eyes looking right at him. Dark and filled with hunger. He sees Mark’s hand holding tight at his hip, the skin there reddening under the pressure, Mark’s lips red and panting, his chest rising up and down as he breathes between each thrust. Miles and miles of golden skin perfect in every way.

He surges forward, meets Mark halfway in a kiss that’s more heavy panting and occasional brushing of lips than anything that’s a proper kiss, a collision of teeth and wandering breaths but it doesn’t matter. Because it’s Mark who’s kissing him, Mark who’s buried deep inside him. Jackson couldn’t ask for anything better.

There’s a flurry of movement, a shift of gravity and suddenly Jackson finds himself laying on his back, Mark hovering above him as he spreads the younger's legs to fit between them. Cock still buried inside the tight channel the American rolls his hips quickly finding their previous rhythm, thrusting into Jackson’s hole, and his lips chase after Jackson’s locking them together again in a mess of saliva and broken moans.

“Look at me, baby, show me your eyes.” Mark breathes against his mouth, thumbs pressing into the meat of Jackson’s thighs as he drives forward, snaps his hips against Jackson’s ass and the younger is helpless to do anything but what is asked of him. 

Jackson keeps his eyes trained on Mark’s staring into the burning heat of desire and feeling like he’s engulfed in them. Mark’s dark fair fall over his forehead, strands wet and plastered with sweat but his gaze is trained on the younger, flicking from his lips to his eyes, down his exposed chest. Jackson preens under the American’s eyes, leans back into the sheets and puts himself on display for Mark’s viewing even when his hands run over the elder’s shoulders, his back, his chest. Touching anywhere and everywhere he can, hungry for Mark’s skin the same way he is for the American’s cock, his gaze on his skin.

“I love watching you when you’re like this, love watching you as you fall apart on my cock, love y-” Mark growls in his ear, low and possessive. His hand grasping at the younger’s cock to stroke him with the pace of his thrusts, cock hitting the spot deep inside Jackson on every shove as he leans down to lick at Jackson’s open mouth. Never breaking his gaze. “All for me. Only for me.” 

In the end that’s what undoes Jackson.

He groans, driving into Mark’s fist, pushing back into his thrusts as his mind numbs to everything but the whitening ecstasy cursing through his veins, Mark’s name falling from his lips. His inner walls clench hard around Mark’s cock and the American speeds up, fucks Jackson through his orgasm thrust going erratic and half aborted as he chases after his own release. It doesn’t take much longer for Mark to join Jackson as he spills inside the younger hot and pulsating, staining Jackson’s insides with his seed. 

Spent, Mark falls on top of the younger, catching himself on his elbows so as not to crush Jackson with his dead weight.

It’s silent for a time safe for the sound of their breaths as they try to regain back their senses, to gather control over their bodies. Mark lays on top of him heavy, secure, and for this brief moment in time Jackson allows himself to put his arms around Mark’s shoulders, to tangle them in Mark’s dark hair and lean up to kiss his jaw, his cheek. Mark hums at his touch, stirring slightly above him, turns his head to capture Jackson’s lips in a kiss chaste and so unlike the desire eating them through just seconds ago. 

They smell like sweat and dried saliva, sticky with remains of lube and come on their bodies, but Jackson does it again, fits his lips against Marks and holds them there, feels the elder respond into his touch. It’s the only place Jackson wants to be in.

Sooner than he’d want Mark starts to move.

“Rest, bǎobèi,” he mummers into the side of Jackson’s face, breath warm and intimate against the younger’s cheek as he raises up, leaving the other cold and shuddering on the bed. He makes his way to the bathroom and Jackson can hear the sound of running water before Mark’s frame is moving through the door, a wet towel in his hands.

Kneeling on the bed he starts to wipe at Jackson’s chest, at the lines of come the younger painted over his own skin, and his touch is back to that light caress he had earlier. The material of the towel drags over his sensitive cock making Jackson hiss, but Mark’s there soothing the ache with soft words and gentle touches making Jackson relax back into the sheets.

“Turn over for me?” Mark asks and without a thought Jackson does. The American’s hands lift his hips slightly, continuing the towel’s journey over Jackson’s naked body as he cleans the inside of his thighs, his cleft. His fingers dip into the loose hole shyly and Jackson hurries to grab at Mark’s wrist.

“Leave it,” he whispers. 

“It’s only going to be harder to clean later,” Mark argues but his fingers withdraw.

“I know,” Jackson responds. The younger man knows better than anyone how little time it takes to wash the signs of Mark from his skin for eventually they all disappear, all too fast for Jackson’s liking. He wants to have a reminder of this thing he and Mark have, of the moments they spend lost in each other, wants to keep Mark inside him, with him for as long as he can in case it was to end tomorrow. 

Mark sighs but says nothing more, his hand retreating from Jackson’s form. He wipes himself with the towel, throws it to the side onto the polished wooden floor before climbing back into the bed.

It should be awkward, this moment after they’ve found release and the niceties of cleanup has been dealt with. It should be different between them, other than Mark curling around Jackson’s form, hand resting on his hip as they lay on their sides, front to back, hidden under the sheets.

It feels good. It feels weird. Like intimacy and trust and nothing that Mark should be doing with a man who acts as his shield, but Jackson doesn’t want it to stop. Whether it be now or in the future he will always be content with the things Mark decides to give him, will always be thankful for his time, his closeness.

They lay like that until Jackson’s eyelids grow heavy, until his mind starts growing lazy and unaware of his surroundings, until his body feels like it’s sinking into the sheets. Comforted by the warmth of Mark’s body, the lazy touch at his hip bone.

"When are we going to stop playing this game, Jacks?" Mark’s voice breaks the silence, lips brushing lightly against the skin of Jackson’s shoulder, and the younger man doesn’t want to move a muscle, doesn’t want this moment disappearing. 

"You're not subtle." Mark continues and his hand comes up to trace his fingers over the bullet scar in the middle of Jackson’s chest once more, pad brushing over the hardened skin.

The younger man turns around to face Mark. As if drawn to the scar the elder’s gaze to the still patch of uneven skin at Jackson’s chest, the same one he worshipped with his lips and his fingers, the same one he almost lost Jackson to.

“I promise to put you back each time you are hurt, but there’s only so much money and science can fix,” He speaks and there’s pain in his eyes when he meets the younger’s gaze.“ I can't live with the possibility of losing you, gaga.”

Jackson’s hand lifts up to cradle Mark’s face, and he presses his own hand over the younger’s, lifts it up and brings it to his mouth. Mark presses his lips to each of Jackson’s fingers, his knuckles, he turns his hand around to fit his lips in the middle of his palm, and the younger recalls all the words Mark called him. _Sweetheart,_ _darling, baby, bǎobèi, beautiful, brave_.

_My Jiāěr._

There are certain things you can learn about a person just from looking at them, just by being in their proximity. Things like their mood, their wellbeing, their attitude towards you or people with you, and as a bodyguard Jackson uses these observations on a daily basis to protect his charges. Perhaps he has been willfully ignorant when it comes to Mark. Perhaps he turned a blind eye to the things he has been sensing from the elder man, choosing not to act too rashly with the fear of ruining the lull of this middle place he and Mark found – a thing that is so not in his nature.

There are certain things you can learn about a person just from looking at them, just by being in their proximity, but words are the solidifier of uncertainty. Words are the conformation, the assurance one looks for when in moments of indecision.

“Should we stop pretending that we both don’t feel anything for each other?” Mark asks freeing his hand to tangle their fingers together, to tug Jackson closer to his body.

“Okay,” the younger agrees.

“Okay,” Mark repeats and he leans forward to press a kiss to Jackson’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> Mini Dictionary:  
> \- lǎobǎn = boss;  
> \- bǎobèi = baby;  
> \- gē (short for gēgē) = older brother  
> \- dì (short for dìdì) = younger brother  
> \- piàoliang = pretty, beautiful  
> \- zhēn de = really, truly
> 
> this piece gave me so much hell, you guys have no idea. at one point i was ready to completely throw it away and forget it ever existed. luckily, a second opinion and some advice does a lot of good, so here's a shout out to the people who helped me pull it through, if it wasn't for you I really would have given up on this one.
> 
> Mia, Wiki, Sha and @marksondaughter thank you so very, very much for your words of encouragement and insight.


End file.
